Revisionist History: Wyatt to the Rescue
by Anne Nonymus
Summary: Tag to Dwarf in the Dirt. My take on the great Gordon Wyatt's return to help a struggling Booth regain his confidence, his marksmanship, and something else.
1. A Friend in Need

**A/N: To those who've read my other stories, you know that usually I work on just one at a time. Unfortunately, my plot bunny had a wild night, started multiplying like crazy and gave birth to a whole liter of plot bunnies. I'm trying to neuter them right now, but they're quick and relentless. I haven't given up on "Beginning" or The JustUs League adventures, don't worry. They should be up as soon as I find a bunny wrangler.**

**So, now I introduce you to a first story in another series. This series is my reinterpretation of ideas that I thought were brilliant but I would have done differently-not better, but differently. In this one, I sort of re-do the return of Dr. Wyatt Gordon. Hope you like.**

**Oh, right, before I begin I'm supposed to say that I don't own Bones or any of its characters. Not a single one. Not even Wendell or Hodgins let alone Booth. I'd love to at least own Booth....Where was I? Oh right, on with the chapter.**

**Revisionist History : Wyatt to the Rescue**

"Gordon Gordon, how're you doing?" Booth greeted as he opened his door, giving his former therapist's hand a solid shake.

"I'm fine Agent Booth," Wyatt smiled, accepting Booth's invitation and following him to the living room. "And how about you? You're doing well I trust?"

"I'm fine." Booth said tightly before offering Wyatt a beer.

"No thank you, but I'll have tea if you have some." asked Wyatt, sensing that whatever was troubling Booth would be disclosed in good time.

"I actually do have tea" smiled Booth brightly. "Bones got me this green tea jasmine blend. She loves it, but to me it smells like perfume. Do you want some?"

"I usually prefer the traditional teas - English Breakfast, Early grey, Orange Pekoe and the like. However, I'm willing to give it a try." Nodded Wyatt.

"Alright." Booth grinned, grabbing a mug from his cupboard and getting a pot to boil some water in. While they waited for the water, they made small talk, updating each other on what was happening in their lives. Booth talked about the case he was on, and of course Brennan. Wyatt told Booth how culinary school was going and the latest cooking techniques and recipes he had recently mastered.

After Booth let the tea steep for a few minutes, he poured it into a mug and handed it to Wyatt while he nursed his own cup of coffee.

"You're right Agent Booth, it is quite fragrant." Wyatt agreed as he breathed in the floral aroma of the newly made beverage. He took a sip and nodded his approval.

"I'm not a tea guy," admitted Booth. "I'm more of a coffee guy. I just keep the tea around for Bones."

"Speaking of the good doctor," Wyatt hedged. "Where is she this fine evening?"

"I don't know," Booth shrugged, his smile fading as he stared into the depths of his coffee mug. "Probably at home, or on a date. I haven't talked to her in a couple of days."

"Really?" mused Wyatt, his eyebrows raised. "I was under the impression that the two of you spend a great deal of time together - both in a professional and personal capacity. Is it not unusual for the two of you to go for an extended period of time without speaking? Has something happened?"

"No...I just..." Booth stuttered uncharacteristically as he pulled a hand through his hair. He sighed, finally revealing what was bothering him. "I'm probably going to be reassigned and I needed some time to get used to the idea."

Though surprised at the revelation, Wyatt kept his tone calm and even. "What makes you think that you're going to be reassigned?"

"I've been taking target practice so that I can pass my marksmanship requirements for field duty," Booth said in a quiet voice. "And..."

Rather than pressing Booth on the issue, Wyatt waited, taking a few slow sips of his tea. He found that as a therapist his greatest tool in getting people to reveal themselves is his patience.

"I used to be a sniper Gordon," Booth's voice was now down to a whisper. "I used to be one of the best. I used to be able to shoot a target from 1500 feet, be able to empty an entire clip and have all the shots grouped tightly in the center ring. Now.....my shots are scattered and I can barely get 4 of 8 in the center ring."

"I used to be able to read people too," Booth continued, his voice pained. "I used to be able to spot a lie after the first word was spoken. Hell I could tell when someone was about to lie to me from the way they looked when I walked in the door. I used to be known for my gut instincts. Now...I just don't know anymore. Everything I used to know, everything I used to count on, everything that I was is fading away. Ever since that stupid brain surgery, I've been losing who I am and I don't know how to get it back."

"That explains the call that I received." contemplated Wyatt.

"Oh what, did Sweets go running to you?" snarled Booth.

"Actually, the call I received was from Dr. Brennan," replied Wyatt, seeing a look of surprise on Booth's face. "She seemed quite concerned over your recent behavior. She noted that you appeared to be rather withdrawn and quiet, not your usual ebullient self. Dr. Brennan told me that her attempts to draw you from your shell were unsuccessful and she hoped that I would be able to obtain a more favorable result."

"Bones is worried about me?" asked Booth guiltily.

"Very," Wyatt nodded. "She seemed at a loss as to what to do. Apparently I was considered a last resort."

"She actually said that didn't she," Booth asked with a half grin. "She didn't mean it the way that it sounded. I hope you weren't offended by it. She just tends to be very...direct."

"That is something of which I am well aware," smiled Wyatt warmly. "Dr. Brennan's candid nature is something one eventually grows accustomed to."

"It's one of her charms." Booth smiled dreamily.

"Tell me something Agent Booth," Wyatt began, putting his mug down. "You stated that since the surgery you've been losing who you are - the skills that once helped to define you. That tells me that you haven't fully recovered?"

"I thought I was ok," began Booth. "I mean, I was a little confused at first...there were little things that I forgot that Bones had to remind me of, but I thought that it would all eventually come back."

"Little things such as...." Wyatt pressed.

"I forgot about my strippy socks and my belt buckle," Booth replied, feeling foolish for having to admit these things. "I forgot how to fix a pipe when that kind of stuff used to be second nature to me. I forgot if I liked brown sugar on my morning cereal."

"You're wearing stripped socks, and your infamous red 'cocky' belt buckle and one of those audacious ties that you enjoy so much." Wyatt pointed out.

"I started wearing them again after Bones reminded me about them," sighed Booth. "She was the one who asked me what happened to my stripped socks and my ties. It was nearly a month after our first case back that I started wearing my cocky buckle again. I'd stare at it, wondering why I would put on something like that. I figured that I must have really liked it before the surgery."

"What was Dr. Brennan's reaction to seeing you sporting that familiar accessory?" asked Wyatt

"She said that she missed it. That it was very Boothy." he replied, trying to suppress the grin that tried to take over his face.

"And you Agent Booth," started Wyatt, taking another sip. "Did returning to your former manner of dress help you to feel more 'Boothy' as Dr. Brennan had stated?"

"A little bit," nodded Booth. "And then I went to the shooting range. It's just, when I think that I'm finally getting back to the place that I was before the surgery, it's like life decides to just kick me in the nuts again."

"I'm sorry to hear that," sympathized Wyatt. "Tell me something. What happened when you awoke from your surgery? Were there any complications?"

"Yeah," nodded Booth slowly. "I had a bad reaction to the anesthesia and I was in a coma for four days. I had a dream that Bones and I were married and owned a nightclub. All of the people that we worked with were there, they just had different jobs."

"How interesting," Wyatt remarked. "Tell me more about this dream of yours."

Booth told him all the details of the dream that he could recall, and Wyatt was surprised by how much Booth remembered. As Booth recounted his time in this alternate world, Wyatt noted the wistful expression on his face, as if he was looking fondly upon his visit to a world that was very real to him.

"Have you and Dr. Brennan discussed this dream of yours?" asked Wyatt, studying Booth's reaction as he posed his question.

"No." Booth replied with a slight shake of his head, seeming to be transfixed by something on the floor.

"So, neither of you have talked about the feelings that the story she created, the one which inspired your 'coma dream' upon have caused to surface?" pressed Wyatt.

"What feelings?" hedged Booth, shrugging nonchalantly, though his body language told Wyatt that the denial placed much weight on his overburdened shoulders. "Bones and I are just partners-"

"Booth, don't you think that it's time to admit to yourselves that which has become glaringly apparent to those around you?" Wyatt pointed out. "Part of the reason that your coma dream has affected you so greatly that you remember it vividly to this day, is that the dream gave you a glimpse of the life that you have wanted for a long time now. A life in which you and Dr. Brennan are able to be partners professionally, as well as in the personal sense. You are able to recognize your love for one another, you're able to kiss her and make love with her whenever you so desire. In your dream, she is your wife - you share a home with her, and you're building a family and a future together. You wake up from that dream and are pulled back into an existence where you wont allow yourself to acknowledge that you have personal feelings for her -"

"Sweets said that my feelings for her aren't real," Booth suddenly blurted, flopping down onto a nearby chair. "He showed me scans of my brain, and said that there were parts of my brain that was proven to show activity when a person is in love. He said that there was no activity in those areas before the dream, but they were lit up like a Christmas tree afterwards. He says that's because my feelings for Bones were a result of the dream, and once I've fully recovered from the surgery, my feelings for her will fade. If I tell her that I....If I tell her I love her and Sweets is right and my feelings for her fade......"

Wyatt looked upon him with sympathy as he waited for Booth to continue.

"I can't do that to her Gordon," Booth finally spoke, his emotions evident in his voice. "I can't hurt her like that. I won't hurt her like that."

"What if Dr. Sweets is wrong?" suggested Wyatt. "Don't get me wrong, Dr. Sweets is a very intelligent and highly capable psychologist. He is very good at what he does, but that doesn't make him infallible. Tell me, what does your gut say."

"I don't know," sighed Booth. "I just don't know anymore."

"Not to worry, my dear Agent Booth, I believe I know how I can help you." Wyatt reassured him, a plan of action forming in his mind.

"Really?" asked a hopeful Booth. "You've figured out how to get me back to my old self? Preferably before my marksmanship test on Friday?"

"That doesn't give me much time, does it?" chuckled Wyatt. "Yes, well, I do believe that I know what you must do to return you to your former glory. However, before I present my solution to you, there are some people I must speak to first."

"Who?"

"Booth, for now I must advise you to show a little trust and patience," smiled Wyatt. "Remember, trust and patience."


	2. Sweet Lessons to Learn

**A/N: Geez, sorry it took so long to update this. After my mini plot bunny explosion, they all took off on me. I found this one hiding in my sneaker. Managed to revive it, but at least it won't be hiding in my shoes again. Next time I'm hiring someone to wrangle my plot bunnies for me. **

**Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed and/or alerted this story. I send all of you a great big hug. Let me know when you receive it.**

**Yet again I am well aware that I don't own Bones or any of its characters. I may be deluded, but I haven't reached that level of nuts. At least, not yet.**

**Sweet Lessons to Learn**

Sweets was at his desk, dictating his findings into his mini recorder for his secretary to transcribe when he heard his intercom beeping.

"Yes Gladys?" he muttered, pressing the intercom button while his eyes still scanned his notes.

"Sorry Dr. Sweets, but there's a gentleman here to see you," replied his secretary jovially. "He doesn't have an appointment, but he says he's a good friend of yours. His name is Gordon Wyatt."

"Send him in!" exclaimed Sweets, practically jumping up from behind his desk. It had been a long time since he had seen or spoken to his hero. Not since Dr. Wyatt had announced his retirement from psychology.

"Dr. Sweets, so good to see you!" greeted Wyatt as he stepped into Sweets office and shook Sweets hand warmly.

"The same to you Dr-" Sweets stopped, correcting himself. "I'm sorry, I mean Chef Wyatt."

"Not yet," chuckled Wyatt, slipping his hands into his pockets. "And please, do call me Gordon. I still have one more year of culinary school, then I must work through the ranks of the kitchen staff before I reach my goal of earning the title of Chef."

"I had no idea that becoming a chef was so involved." remarked Sweets.

"Anything worth having is worth the effort," said Wyatt wisely. "Yes, it can be difficult at times but it's worth it."

"Is it worth giving up a prestigious career as one of the world's leading criminal psychologists?" Sweets half joked. He still couldn't quite understand Wyatt's decision to switch careers.

"Most definitely," grinned Wyatt. "I realize that my decision to leave psychology in favor of the culinary arts seemed like a foolish decision to some, but it is a decision I don't regret. I've had a passion and a love for cooking for quite some time now. I've tried to pretend it was nothing more than an interest, that I simply enjoyed cooking for myself and for others - that it would lead to nothing more than feeling fulfilled after preparing a meal. Eventually I was able to see that being a chef, making a living from creating meals that delighted the palate as well as enticed your other senses, it was no longer a hobby to me or an enjoyable way to satisfy a physical hunger. I've had other loves, other interests, careers that I found gratifying for a time, but becoming a chef - this is what I was meant for."

"Why do I get the feeling that this isn't just a casual visit?" sighed Sweets, motioning for Wyatt to take a seat on the chair in front of his desk as he sat behind it. He knew what this visit was about and he needed a moment to brace himself before he began to justify his actions.

"Ah, that is because you - my dear Dr. Sweets - are an exceptional psychologist capable of accurately discerning the motives and actions of others," nodded Wyatt solicitously, taking the proffered seat. "All except your own."

"What do you mean Gordon?" asked Sweets, hating that his voice still squeaked when he was nervous.

"Let's not play games Lance," replied Wyatt, giving Sweets a knowing look. "I'm referring to the unsolicited advice that you gave Agent Booth not too long ago."

"Agent Booth is a patient of mine, I'm quite uncomfortable discussing-" Sweets began.

"I'm not here as a colleague Dr Sweets, or to evaluate you in any way shape or form," said Wyatt gently. "I'm here as a friend, representing another friend who needs help."

"Booth needs help?" asked Sweets, who felt concerned yet he couldn't help but feel a little hurt at the same time. "If Booth needed help, why didn't he just come to me? I've been working closely with Dr Brennan and Booth for years now, no offense, but I don't understand why would he go to you for help."

"What he needs help with is more important than who he sought help from, don't you think?" asked Wyatt, being evasive.

"You're right," agreed Sweets. "What does Booth need help with and what can I do?"

"Booth has had some difficulty with returning to his former self since the surgery," replied Wyatt. "The issue that most concerns him at the present time is his inability to hit his target. He's afraid that he won't be able to pass his marksmanship test and will no longer be cleared for field duty."

"That's why he didn't tell me," mused Sweets, mentally smacking himself in the head. "He's afraid that if he told me, then I would have to report it. He didn't want me to have to choose between his friendship and my duties to the FBI. I feel like such a jerk."

"Is it because you felt excluded when you heard that Booth was having difficulties and didn't turn to you," asked Wyatt. "Or because you suspect that something you've done could be delaying his recovery and in fact be responsible for the dilemma he is currently undergoing?"

When Sweets declined to answer, Wyatt continued.

"I was told, that you showed Booth a PET scan of his brain," Wyatt mentioned. "And I understand that you pointed out the ventral tegmental area, and the dorsal caudate body in an effort to convince him that his feelings for Dr Brennan are a result of the dream he experienced during his coma. You claimed that because those regions were dormant before the scan, and active during his coma and afterwards was proof that his love for her wasn't real, and it would fade in time. Tell me, when you explained that studies have shown that those particular areas of the brain were proven to be linked to romantic love, did you describe to him the manner in which the tests were conducted?"

Sweets once again answered with guilty silence as Wyatt shook his head back and forth, tutting his disapproval as he did so.

"You didn't explain to him that the study required the subjects to look at photographs of their spouses or romantic partners while the scan was taking place?" asked Wyatt. "The studies showed that the subjects who concentrated on their loved ones did exhibit activity in the VTR and the DCB. The problem with Booth's results begin with the fact that when the first scan was taken, he was just informed that there was a possibility that he was suffering from a brain tumor. I can't even begin to fathom what receiving such devastating news that would be, and in addition to that, the poor man was suffering from hallucinations. It would have been reasonable to conclude that the last thing he was considering was romance. During the coma, his mind - inspired by Dr Brennan's mysterious tale - opened him up to a world where it was not only possible but certain that Temperance loved him and he was free to love her back. There were no rules or regulations to prevent them from being both romantic partners and partners in a professional sense. In this dream world, she was his wife and took every opportunity to demonstrate her feelings for him via physical displays of affection. They were even building a family of their own. And then he wakes up from the dream and finds that none of it was real. To add to the confusion, as soon as she is reassured by the doctors that Booth is recovering from the surgery she immediately leaves for Guatemala to participate in a dig. When the third scan was taken, he was no longer concentrating on the tumor itself, but suffering from the effects of the confusion and missing Dr Brennan."

"That sounds like a reasonable interpretation of the scans." replied Sweets stiffly.

"Dr Sweets, I knew from the first moment I saw them interact that they were in love," Wyatt remarked. "The love that they have for each other isn't a recent development, it's something that I suspect has built over time and evolved with their trust for one another and their respect for each other. It's obvious to anyone observing them that they're love. The only ones who seem blind to this are Temperance and Booth themselves, which is why I don't understand your reasoning behind telling Booth that his feelings for Dr Brennan are temporary."

"I had to!" insisted Sweets. "He was on the verge of telling Dr Brennan that he was in love with her, and she wasn't ready to hear it. She ran off to Guatemala practically as soon as he woke from his coma. She couldn't deal with the emotional implications of him waking up believing that the dream world was real and that she was his wife. Rather than staying and helping him with his recovery, she left as soon as the doctors said Booth was on his way to recovering physically. Emotionally and mentally he had a long way to go, but she didn't even stick around to hear that part of the diagnosis. She was out of the country while he was struggling with identity confusion and memory loss. To a certain extent, he's still recovering from the effects of the surgery. If he told her his feelings for her, and she wasn't ready to acknowledge her feelings for him, he'll be devastated. I only did what I did as a friend."

"Then you should have made sure that he knew you were advising him as a friend rather than a doctor," replied Wyatt. "You overstepped your bounds Lance, and you know it. You should have just told him the truth."

"He wouldn't have listened to me," protested Sweets. "He would have just said that I'm just a kid, what would I know. That's why I had to show him the scans. I had to do whatever it took to stop him from confessing his feelings to Dr Brennan. If he tells her before she's ready to accept his feelings for her and acknowledge that the feelings she has for him are more than platonic, she'll either push him away or she'll run. He'll be devastated and their partnership will be shattered, fragmented beyond repair."

"That is certainly a possibility," mused Wyatt. "However, because you didn't trust him to listen to the truth, he's still having difficulty with his identity."

"How is that possible?" asked a doubtful Sweets. "I've had sessions with him to ensure that he is no longer feeling the effects of identity confusion. I myself cleared him for duty."

"And because you caused him to doubt his feelings for Temperance, he's having difficulties with his marksmanship," Wyatt replied. "I'm sorry for putting it so bluntly, but as Booth is required to take his marksmanship test in three days, we don't have the time to be gentle I'm afraid.

"How are my efforts to prevent Booth from inadvertently sabotaging his partnership related to his difficulties with hitting his target?" asked Sweets defensively. "Are you trying to say that his difficulties with his marksmanship are a symptom of psychosexual-"

"No, not at all," Wyatt interrupted before Sweets went too far off topic. "What I'm saying, is that Booth is a man of emotion, of instinct, a man who lives by his gut, who trusted his heart. When you told him that his feelings for Dr Brennan weren't real, you caused him to doubt himself, to doubt everything that he is at his core. All the things he was, he's no longer sure of - he's having difficulty discerning the truthfulness of people when he was once adept at reading people. His instincts once helped give him direction, now he seems lost. As a sharpshooter, his skills with his gun helped him to protect people. Now he can barely hit his target. He's afraid that he's losing who he once was and feels helpless to stop it."

"I never meant for that to happen," said Sweets quietly. "I just didn't want him to ruin his partnership with Dr Brennan. How do I fix this?"

"As it turns out, I do have a solution." offered Wyatt.

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Sweets cringed.

"Well my dear Sweets, part of the reason redemption is so sweet is because of the effort one must undertake to earn it," Wyatt smiled. "Don't worry, I'll be by your side through it all."

"What do I have to do?" Sweets sighed.

"Let's start by talking to Dr Brennan." suggested Wyatt, getting up from his seat.

"What - now?" sputtered Sweets.

"Yes now," replied Wyatt patiently. "Booth's marksmanship test is on Friday. As I've said, there's not a moment to waste."

"Wait," paused Sweets, confusion etched on his face. "Why do we have to talk to Dr Brennan first and not Booth?"

"Because my dear Sweets, you have to persuade Dr. Brennan into acknowledging her feelings for Booth," Grinned Wyatt. "I'll be with you as soon as I can."

"Hold on a minute!" exclaimed Sweets, spinning around to face Wyatt. "You said that you were going to be by my side through it all."

"And I will be," reassured Wyatt. "There's something that I have to do first."

"What might that be?" asked Sweets.

"I need the assistance of Ms Montenagro in order to obtain something which will help plead your case to both Booth and Dr. Brennan," replied Wyatt mysteriously. "I'll see you and Dr Brennan at the Diner."

Wyatt patted Sweets shoulder in encouragement, and left his office to preform whatever secret mission he had assigned to himself, leaving Sweets to wonder how in the world he was supposed to convince the uber rationale Brennan that she indeed was in love with Booth.

"Whatever he's getting from Angela, I hope that it's a signed confession from Brennan that she loves Booth." muttered Sweets as he left his office. Little did he know how close he was to figuring it out.


	3. Mission Impossible

**A/N: You guys may have thought that I had abandoned this story, and you were nearly right. I wasn't really feeling this story and I was busy with my recovery and my other stories, but thanks to nudging from 2BBornot2BB and mendenbar, I had a bit of a break through with this one. Hope y'all enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Still don't own Bones or any of its characters, but I did have a dream about Booth rocking out to Hot Blooded wearing nothing but stripy socks, so right now I'm not too mad about it.**

**Mission Impossible**

Sweets sat at the table, trying to still his nervousness by attempting to balance a spoon and fork over the rim of his glass of water. He found the requisite concentration involved in this exercise to be quite calming, though it hadn't managed to take his mind off the near impossible mission that Wyatt had set him on. How was he going to convince the queen of empiricism and logic that she was in love with her partner? Even though this fact was obvious to anyone observing the two of them for even the briefest amount of time, Brennan was still obstinately denying this truth to herself and everyone else. Wyatt might as well have asked him to break into Fort Knox using nothing but his wit and a thumb tack.

"Why have you called this meeting?" asked a familiarly brusque voice, shattering his concentration and scaring the bejesus out of him.

"Dr. Brennan, you startled me!" he nervously laughed. Before he could say anything further, he noticed that the anthropologist seemed to be in a rather dark mood.

"Why did you insist we meet here and why didn't you want Booth to join us?" she demanded, her grey blue eyes boring into him making him more anxious than he already was.

"Would you like to order anything?" he squeaked, gulping loudly and loosening his tie and collar a tad.

"Dr. Sweets, I have work to do," she growled. "and my time is extremely valuable. Tell me what it is that you needed to speak to me about or I'm going to leave."

Sweets took a deep breath in through his nose, and as he did, he tried to think of some clever and tactful way to approach the subject that Brennan would appreciate. Finding none, he decided to follow Brennan's example and just say what was on his mind.

"I want to talk to you about your feelings for Booth." he blurted in one breath as he expelled the one he was holding.

He gulped again, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he watched Brennan's eyes narrow, and her lip curl slightly in a barely masked look of disdain. He could feel a sheen of cold sweat beading across his brow and in the area between his nose and his lip. He fought against the sudden urge to run, and in that moment, Sweets was reminded of the fact that Booth wasn't the only one of the partners who could be extremely intimidating.

"Other than friendship and a deep respect for Booth, I have no other feelings for him," replied Brennan in a coldly calm voice. "Is there anything else you wanted to discuss that's either relevant to an open case or pertinent to Booth and I maintaining FBI approval for our professional partnership?"

"Don't you think that its time for you to end this period of denial and take ownership of the romantic love and physical attraction you feel for Booth?" continued Sweets, sounding braver than he felt. He knew that he was pushing his luck to the breaking point, especially taking into account her currently foul disposition. He realized that inciting Dr. Brennan's ire was a boldly stupid move - she could end up telling Booth about meeting with Sweets the thought of which made him sick to his stomach, or she could take matters into her own hands. Hands that have helped her to earn black belts in three martial arts. She's punched a judge and broken the wrist of a serial killer. Sweets just hoped that avoiding physical contact with her was the key to preventing his own assault. Then again, come to think of it he couldn't remember if the judge she punched actually touched her.

"Booth is one of my best friends and my partner, that's all," she repeated, glaring at Sweets in a way that made him squirm. "I don't know why people keep insisting that our relationship is more than that. Or why it would be anyone else's business if it were."

"Ah, sorry to keep everyone waiting!" greeted Wyatt, rushing to the table.

"Why are you here?" asked Brennan, redirecting her annoyance towards the former psychologist and puzzled as to why Sweets seemed so relieved to see him.

"Well Dr. Brennan, to be honest I asked Dr. Sweets to arrange for a meeting with you," replied Wyatt cheerily. "and before you ask, this has a great deal to do with Booth and the some of the concerns you have about him."

"I came to you with the expectation of confidentiality!" growled Brennan angrily at Wyatt.

"Dr. Brennan, I'm no longer a psychologist and we're not bound by patient/doctor privilege," he reminded her. "besides, in order to help Booth, I had to enlist the assistance of others who are as concerned for Booth as we are. Dr. Sweets happens to be one of those people. He was also Booth's therapist as he recovered from his surgery."

"That seems logical," Brennan grudgingly accepted. "have the two of you made an assessment of Booth's recent behavior, as well as some way to help him?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," began Wyatt, taking a seat beside Sweets. "However, before we discuss Booth and his troubles, there is a related topic that we must talk about first."

Wyatt placed a large manila envelope on the table, staring at it for a moment before continuing.

"Did you mean it when you said that you can't imagine anything you wouldn't do to help Booth?" asked Wyatt.

"Yes." she replied quietly, her eyes downcast. "Is there something I can do to help Booth?"

"We'll get to that in a moment," he reassured her as he opened the envelope and removed its contents. "There's something that I must confess before we go on. I want to help Booth nearly as much as you do, and in order to do that, I was forced to do something rather distasteful, but I'm afraid that this was a necessary evil."

He handed her the sheaf of papers that was in the envelope, and as she skimmed over the first few lines, the expression on her face went from furrowed and curious to tense and angry. She looked up at Wyatt, her blue gray eyes ice cold with rage.

"I can see that you're feeling quite enraged at what you must view as an egregious invasion of privacy," started Wyatt in his calmest voice. "and I do apologize for that. However, might I remind you that you told me that you were willing to do anything to help Booth with whatever might be troubling him. And as his friend, so am I."

"Where did you get this?" she demanded in a coldly quiet voice.

"You left your laptop in your office," Wyatt explained. "And I brought it to Ms. Montenagro. I asked her if it were possible to retrieve a deleted file, and being as gifted as she is with all things technological, she reassured me that my idea would be feasible. She only did what I asked because I told her that it would help Booth, so I accept full responsibility for my actions."

"What does this have to do with Booth?" she asked, her voice quaking with fury.

"Patience my dear Temperance," Wyatt entreated. "my explanation is forthcoming. For now I would like to discuss with you the pages you have in your hand. You recognize it don't you?"

"Of course I do," replied Brennan in a haughty tone. "this is the story that I wrote while Booth was in a coma."


	4. Book Report

**A/N: Eek, the bunnies are attacking me again. I have a couple of ideas that I want to get to before the new season starts, but I have to finish up a couple of stories first. I already have too many in the air, so here I am updating this one. Just one, maybe two chapters before this one is put to bed. Hope you enjoy.**

**Thanks to all those who've read/alerted/favorited/reviewed any or all of my stories. Love y'all!**

**Disclaimer: still don't own Bones or any of its characters. Am willing to trade my sister for it. Any takers?**

**Book Report**

"May I see that?" asked Sweets, curiosity drowning out his better judgement as he found himself reaching out for the pages in Brennan's hands.

"No one was ever supposed to read this," Brennan exclaimed, protectively placing the papers protectively on her lap and effectively out of Sweets reach. "This was just a writing exercise that I utilized to keep myself busy while I waited for Booth to wake from the coma he was in."

"Temperance, this story was much more than just a writing exercise and you are far too intelligent a woman to believe that." Tutted Gordon.

"I don't understand what you mean." replied Brennan, trying to seem nonchalant.

"If this was merely an exercise to keep yourself busy, then why was it so simplistic?" Gordon challenged. "Your novels are far more complex and include intricate plot lines, as well as a great deal of science in order to solve the featured crime. In this particular narrative, there is a murder-an assassin who was assassinated-but no real detective work. No in depth forensic examination, not much in the way of evidence collection, and the crime is solved mainly by way of a series of vague assumptions and guesswork rather than deductive reasoning."

"I didn't have much time to do any research," she protested. "Besides, this was solely an exercise."

"Really Temperance?" from the expression on Wyatt's face, it was obvious even to Brennan that he didn't believe her. "With the stores of information accessible to you from that magnificent brain of yours, as well as years of working alongside Booth solving murders, that you couldn't come up with a single example of the how to include the forensic examination of evidence in your story?"

"I wrote it from the point of view of people who weren't familiar with crime solving or procedure." Brennan argued weakly. "It would be incongruous to include a large amount of forensic work."

"That brings me to my second point," said Wyatt patiently. "Tell me why it is, in this fictional tale of yours - that so many of the characters are so like the people that you know in reality? In fact, they were so true to character that I would have believed that it was it was an account of real events if not for the fact that the story took place in a club."

"It is a writer's prerogative to base fictional characters on people that they are acquainted with in their daily lives." Brennan reasoned.

"Yes, I suppose that's true," granted Wyatt. "but often the characters hold elements and personality quirks of several different people altogether rather than being based on just the one person. I've read your books, and even those who are only casually acquainted with your friends can tell the differences between the characters and the people that they are based on; the variations between the real life characters and the fictional ones are obvious. In this story, with the exception of their occupations, there are few differences between the characters and the people that inspired them. At their core they remain the same - you've written the character of Sweets as a bartender - otherwise known as a barstool psychologist. The social butterfly Angela is the hostess at your club, Dr. Addy remains your loyal assistant, Dr. Saroyan - whether it was due to her law enforcement past or whether you see her as someone who is in charge of 'policing' the team and ensuring that everyone stays on task and follows the rules - you have her as the investigating detective. You've portrayed your father as a mysterious figure involved in underhanded criminal activity, and Caroline Julian as the legal representation for your club. Dr. Brennan, I could go on and on with an examination of every single character and why you've written them in this manner, but this story is more than just the characters you've created. This is more than just a work of fiction and its time that you acknowledge that."

"I don't know what you mean by that." Brennan bristled uncomfortably.

"In your story, you are the co-owner of a club," Wyatt said, venturing further. "there wouldn't be any rules or regulations to prevent you and Booth from having a business relationship combined with that of a very personal nature. In fact, in your story, your character is married to him. Now, why would you have a very rational, pragmatic character that you modeled after yourself marry her business partner? Would she not hold the same values and beliefs that you own concerning marriage?"

"She's a fictional character-" insisted Brennan.

"Yes, a fictional character," he agreed. "who happens to be in love with her partner. She loved him so much that she married him and continues to work with him at their club - a business that they built together. A nightclub where their employees have formed more a family with them, to the point that they would hinder a police investigation not because they believed in their boss' innocence but because they understood that if Booth - or the Booth like character - committed this crime, that it was to protect the woman that he loved. In reality, Booth endeavors to protect everyone else, and this was your way to protect him. In this world-a world that you created, you are the one in danger, not him. And although he is a suspect in a murder, the likelihood that he would be charged with the crime was very slim."

"The accusations against him and the suspicions were merely a plot device." argued Brennan.

"You're using multiple plot devices within a story that you never intended to publish?" scoffed Wyatt. "You created a lovely story about two people in love - two people linked in their personal life and their professional life. The first character is a pragmatic, logical woman who is balanced by her instinctual, over protective, and principled husband. He understands that there is a fiery passionate side to her seemingly cold demeanor and she understands that his protectiveness stems from his love for her. Everyone that knows him is aware that he would do anything for her, that his one weakness is his wife. And while others suspect her infidelity, her husband is the only person who doesn't. He understands her, and she understands him. They are surrounded by people whose loyalty to them is unflagging. People who are willing to obstruct the law for them not because of their belief in the couple's innocence, but their justifiable guilt. In this world, her life was threatened, though in an oblique way. She uncovered the threat, only after her would be assailant was murdered. There was no thoughts of any further threat to her life. Indeed, upon the death of the assassin their main concern was uncovering who was behind the clandestine rescue, and who was this man working for. In due time, the both of them separately came to the realization of the identity of the murderer and who wished to do her harm. The ending of the story had a nice and neat happy ending, complete with a child for the happy parents to be. Are you telling me that it's simply coincidence that before Booth was discovered to have a brain tumor, that you planned to have a child by him? Temperance, be honest - if not with us, at least with yourself. Booth means more to you than you allow yourself to believe."

"I asked you to help Booth, not to analyze me!" she snarled.

"Temperance, to put it bluntly - you are Booth's problem." Wyatt said candidly. He started to believe that the only way to get through to Brennan was the unabashed truth. If he had time, he could continue to be patient with her and allow her to come to her own conclusions, but as it was - he did not have that luxury.

"You are a brilliant woman with a genius IQ, not to mention highly observant," he continued. "You must have known that Booth has more than platonic feelings for you. He's had them for quite some time, I'd even venture to say that these feelings for you could possibly have its genesis in the beginnings of your partnership. Due to your well known opinions on love and marriage, he's kept those feelings buried for fear of rejection and also because he was afraid of ruining what you two already have; a quite effective working relationship coupled with a deep and respectful friendship. No matter how difficult it must have been for him to watch as you kept company with other men, he stayed quiet on the matter, always showing you with his actions how he felt, but never putting it into words.

"And then he had had brain surgery, the complications of which had him falling into a coma. In that coma he lived a life that he never thought he would have -I'm not speaking about being the co owner of a club, but a personal relationship with you. In this other life, you weren't merely his work partner, but his partner in all things. You were his loving wife whom he could kiss, and show physical affection towards and make love to. In that dream he began to explore things that he didn't think were possible, especially the idea that you could actually love him in return. That his love wasn't unrequited. You can understand how confusing that might have been for him, to wake up and find that the life he dreamed of was nothing more than a dream. He awoke from his coma with you by his side, but only as a friend. That dream unlocked feelings that he kept hidden, and he contemplated revealing his feelings to you-"

"That's merely supposition," she scoffed. "There is no way for you to know this."

"Booth told me himself," Wyatt revealed. "He was going to tell you when he was advised not to."

"Someone told him not to tell me?" asked Brennan in shock. "Who would do that?"

"It doesn't matter who gave this advice," replied Wyatt, who didn't need to look over at Sweet to know that he wore the look of guilt on his face. "What matters is that Booth took it, and has been suffering since. He's a man who trusts his heart and because he was told not to, he's been suffering since. Imagine someone telling you that the basic tenants of logic were suddenly proved to be wrong. That everything you believed in - your practicality, your pragmatism, your rationale was faulty and useless. How would you feel?"

"That's irrelevant since-"

"How would you feel Dr. Brennan?" pressed Wyatt.

"I would find that tremendously confusing." She conceded.

"Now we're getting to the crux of the matter," smiled Wyatt. "You did encounter a situation where your logic and your rationale did you no good. These tools were useless to you when you were waiting for Booth to awaken from his coma, weren't they? Even your extraordinary ability to compartmentalize failed you while someone who happened to be the one person you cared about most was in a bad way, and there was nothing for you to do but wait. It must have been horrible."

"I don't want to talk about it." muttered Brennan, her jaw set as she stared out the window.

"Pretending that you are no longer affected by what happened to Booth will not make it so." advised Wyatt understandingly.

"And discussing it will?" she snapped.

"Have you talked about it at all?" Wyatt countered. He took her silence as her answer and continued. "Temperance, I can only imagine what you must have gone through, seeing Booth in that condition. After all, Booth is normally so strong and vital, and I'm sure that you've seen his hospital records. You know what injuries he sustained during his time in the military, and you've been a witness to some of the recent injuries he has incurred. And through all that, somehow his essential masculinity lends him the air of invincibility."

"No one is invincible." Brennan said, her voice just above a whisper.

"I know," Wyatt replied, his voice calm and quiet. "however, there is something about Booth, whether it's his carriage, the strength he embodies, his military and law enforcement training, his alpha male bearing, or the combination of all of the above, he exudes an air of indestructibility. It isn't difficult to believe that he could survive almost anything. He's survived the perils of war as an elite soldier, he's survived torture, warfare, to come back and become a Special Agent for the FBI-a job that has its own dangers. As an agent, he's fallen victim to an incendiary device, he's been abducted and tortured, he's even been shot. And yet, he survives. But this time, things were different. For the first time, he didn't respond to his condition with his usual masculine poise, uttering witty comments and using self deprecating humor to reassure you, and he didn't recover as quickly as you're accustomed to. Instead, after his surgery, he spent four days, lying unresponsive on a hospital bed. This was more difficult for you to witness than his other injuries, wasn't it?"

Brennan nodded rather than answering Wyatt's query verbally. From the way that she clenched her fists on the table in front of her while she stared at the sheaf of papers in her lap, to the defeated posture of her shoulders, Sweets could tell that Brennan was on the edge, she couldn't be pushed much further. His heart went out to her while Wyatt tore down the walls that she used to protect herself. It was obvious that she was suffering and it would be cruel to continue this torment, and he was about to intervene, perhaps suggest that Wyatt give her a little bit of a break. Instead, Wyatt laid a patient hand on Sweets arm, entreating him to be patient and with a look, told Sweets that this had to be done. Sweets acquiesced, remaining silent while Wyatt continued.

"Dr. Brennan, in times of extreme strain, we all need some way to alleviate some of the tension that threatens to overwhelm us; an outlet for our emotional turmoil. Some discuss what they're experiencing with a friend or therapist, some write in a diary or a journal. For someone who refuses to even acknowledge their feelings, those are all dangerous outlets for release. What you required was a safe way to express your emotions, and what better way for an author to do so than in a story. This fictional setting would allow you to explore your feelings for Booth without the danger of revealing more than you were prepared to. You could simply pretend that it was just a creative way to relieve your restlessness while you watched over Booth. And by deleting it, you ensured your continued denial of your true feelings. You wouldn't have to address this for what it really is-a love letter to Booth."

"I have to go," muttered Brennan, grabbing the sheaf of papers in her lap and shoving them in her bag. "I have to get back to the lab, I have work to do."

"Dr. Brennan, I suggest that you read your story through again." sighed Wyatt.

"Why?" she asked in a tone that closely resembled a whine. "You've invaded my privacy, questioned my motives and actions, and for what? How does this help Booth?"

"My dear Doctor Brennan, isn't it obvious?" cooed Wyatt patiently.

"If I'm questioning it, how can it be obvious?" Brennan pointed out.

"You need to help him trust himself again; to trust his heart," replied Wyatt. "what better way than to let him know that you trust him with what you feel. To let him know that he is not in this alone. Place your trust in him and he'll begin to trust himself again."

"But I do trust Booth," insisted Brennan. "I trust him implicitly."

"Those are just words Temperance," replied Wyatt. "You trust him with your life as his partner, but do you trust him with your heart?"

She paused, seeming to consider what Wyatt asked her when her phone began to ring.

"It's Angela at the lab," she informed them upon reading what was texted to her. "I have to go, she's completed the facial reconstruction and they have the victim's identity."

"You should go then." suggested Wyatt.

"Booth will be there." she stated, with a hint of uncertainty.

"Trust yourself Temperance," Wyatt said reassuringly."Trust yourself and trust Booth. If either of you need anything, just call."

Brennan nodded, offering him a brief and shy smile before leaving to meet Booth and the rest of the team.

"Do you think she'll do it?" asked Sweets, surprised and yet fearful of the progress that was just made. After all, he was well acquainted with the one step forward, two steps back dance that the partners were known for.

"You can carry a person so far before they must learn to walk on their own," Wyatt advised. "Dr. Brennan is an extraordinarily intelligent woman, and once she realizes what needs to be done, she'll do it."

"You think so?" asked Sweets hopefully.

"I have faith that she will," Wyatt grinned. "of course, if she doesn't, I suppose we'll have to go to plan B."


	5. An Interesting Evening

**A/N: Hey y'all. We're in the final stretch here. Just one more chapter to go. This chapter is just a little transition bit before the end. Hope you like it. And thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/alerted/favorited this story. Mwah!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones or any of its characters. If I did, Brennan definitely would have figured out how lucky she is to have Booth by now. **

**An Interesting Evening**

Gordon Wyatt had just sat down with a newly brewed cup of his favorite earl grey tea when he found the peace and quiet of his home broken by the shrill ringing of his cell phone. When he left his practice he foolishly thought that he would have less interaction with that infernal piece of technology in which modern day society has become so dependent on. One of the things that appealed most to him about becoming a chef is the idea that he was no longer on call. Once he left his place of employment, his workday was over. Of course, he would have to feed himself and perhaps experiment with new recipes, but he found cooking pleasurable. It was nothing like having to go to a crime scene after being woken up in the middle of the night to create a rudimentary profile based on what little information law enforcement had managed to gather. He didn't miss being awakened from a deep sleep to delve into the inhumanity that people are capable of. Even though those days and nights were behind him, he still found himself cringing slightly whenever he heard it ringing.

He hated the thing, wished he could be rid of it completely, but then again he realized that it did serve a purpose. It helped him to keep in touch with acquaintances and friends, and in particular - two very stubborn friends who still required his help.

With a sigh, he rose slowly from his antique english tufted linen chair, and over to his coat rack where his tweed sports jacket hung from its dark oak carved arms. He ruffled around in the pockets until he found the sought after device. He didn't need to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

"Hello Booth," he answered in his rich baritone voice. "how are you doing?"

"Hey Gordon," replied Booth jovially, though Wyatt could tell that there was a slight note of tension in his voice. "I'm doing alright, how's it going with you? Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"Not at all," Wyatt reassured him. "I was just having an early evening cup of tea. I suppose that you're calling out of your concern for your upcoming marksmanship test."

"That obvious, huh?" Booth laughed nervously. "Sorry if I'm bugging you, it's just that the marksmanship test is only a day away. I have to pass that test Gordon. I have to, because if I don't pass it..."

"I'm aware of what's at stake here Booth, and your anxiety on the matter is completely understandable," smiled Wyatt, realizing that this was the perfect opportunity to put the second phase of his plan into action. "I did tell you that I would assist you in returning to your former glory, did I not?"

"So, you do have a plan in mind?" inquired Booth. "You've talked to the people you needed to talk to?"

"Yes I have," replied Wyatt mysteriously. "and I believe that it is time to put my plan into action. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." sighed Booth.

"Good," said Wyatt. "I'm having a small dinner party this evening, and you're invited. We can discuss this plan after dinner."

"Who's coming?" asked Booth curiously.

"Only people you know and are comfortable with, and who can help you with your current situation will be in attendance." Wyatt assured him.

"Okay," said Booth trustingly. "where and when?"

"My place, say around...eight o'clock?" he replied.

"Alright," agreed a relieved sounding Booth. "What are we having for dinner by the way?"

"It'll be a surprise." chuckled Wyatt. "I'll see you tonight."

Wyatt hung up and sighed deeply before making his next call.

"Hello? This is Gordon. How are you..." he said once he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line. "yes...I am aware of that. Did you...I see. No...it's alright. I understand. I think that I know what to do. Listen, I'm hosting a small dinner party this evening and I would like to invite you. There will be plenty of interesting conversation, and...yes, we can discuss that after dinner...my place, around seven thirty would be fine. See you then."

With a self satisfied smile, he returned to his chair and his tea. He would allow himself a small respite before he began preparing for this evening's "dinner party". In his previous life as a doctor of psychology, he would typically sit back, listen and ask questions that allowed his patients to come to their own conclusions. By doing this, he assisted them to help themselves, gently guiding them down the path of enlightenment, helping them to overcome whatever obstacles that happened to be in their way.

In the case of Brennan and Booth however, their fears and their denial of their feelings for each other was so great that subtlety would have no effect on them. Friends and colleagues had been hinting at the partners relationship status for years, giving advice that went unheeded and pointing out the obvious that continues to be ignored. Brennan and Booth together with their team have been able to quickly and efficiently solve an impressive number of murders during their tenure as partners, and yet five years have not been long enough for the FBI's most successful partnership to be able to conquer the obstacles that lay between them. Gentle guidance would not be enough. It was time to get them to face facts.

With a light chuckle, Wyatt thought to himself "This is going to be an interesting evening."


	6. Look Who's Coming to Dinner

**A/N: Sorry for the horrendous delay. My main excuse is that last year ended roughly for me, and I'm still trying to bounce back from it. In any case, here's the last chapter for this story, with a short epilogue to follow. Hopefully before the end of the year (just joking. Mostly. I hope.)**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own Bones or any of it's characters. Santa must have misplaced my letter to him. Again.**

**Look Who's Coming to Dinner**

Wyatt had some aperitivo ready, and was in the midst of cooking dinner when he heard his doorbell ring.

"Seven thirty on the dot," he chuckled to himself. "The woman is precise."

He gave the pan a quick stir before hurrying to the door. The last thing that he wanted was for the evening to start off on the wrong foot because he was slow to let her in.

"Dr Brennan, do come in," he said invitingly, stepping aside so that she could pass through the entryway. "may I take your coat?"

"Thank you." she accepted, allowing him to help her with her jacket. She stood in silence for a moment, her eyes sweeping the space to take everything in. When it came to objects and surroundings, nothing seemed to escape her notice. People were an entirely different matter.

"What do you think of my humble abode?" asked Wyatt, proceeding to the kitchen while she trailed behind him.

"It's very well kept," she nodded approvingly. "you have quite a few antiques as well. They seem to be in excellent condition."

"Why thank you," smiled Wyatt. "I do have an appreciation for antiques. They have so much more character than the furniture that's mass produced in today's market. I also enjoy the hunt for a good piece of antique furniture, I love knowing that each piece has a story to tell about it. I did have an acquaintance say that too many of these little nick knacks tend to clutter one's space. I disagree. I find that these little chatchkies are what makes a house a home."

"Booth would agree with you," she chuckled. "he attaches a sentimental value to many of the items in his home."

"And you Temperance? Do you surround yourself with meaningful collections or do you prefer austere minimalism?" grinned Wyatt.

"In my home I do have priceless artifacts from my numerous digs around the world," she admitted. "as well as some newer items that have a more emotional worth than monetary value."

"When an item is wrapped in a precious memory, it makes that item just a little more special doesn't it?" he chuckled knowingly.

Brennan followed him to the kitchen where he served her caponata with olives, fennel and asiago. As she munched on the appetizers, she asked who else was invited to the dinner and when they were expected to arrive.

"Oh, before I forget, there's something that I must show you," declared Wyatt, sidestepping her question as he wiped his hands on his apron. He hurried to his china cabinet, opened a drawer and removed a large, thin manila envelope. "You are aware of the studies correlating the activity within the DCB and the VTR in the brain when a person is in love."

"Yes," nodded Brennan. "I have heard that studies were conducted concerning these areas of the brain and the various neurochemicals associated with the feelings of being in love, such as euphoria, emotional connection..."

"How would you analyze this scan?" he inquired, taking a printed picture from the envelope.

"I'm not a neurologist." shrugged Brennan, squaring her jaw subconsciously. "My analysis would not be entirely accurate or reliable."

"I do realize that, though you are aware of the study and you are knowledgeable on the subject," ventured Wyatt, placing the pictures in front of her. "I'm not asking for an expert's analysis Temperance, I just want to know your opinion."

"Well, from the pronounced activity in the Dorsal Caudate Body and the Ventral Tegumental Region, I would venture to say that the subject of the scan is in love-or I should say that they are experiencing the sensations associated with being in love."

"These are Booth's scans." disclosed Wyatt.

"Why do you have Booth's brain scans?" asked Brennan, reeling from the revelation and the implications hanging in the air.

"That's not the real question you want the answer to, is it Temperance?" smiled Wyatt knowingly. "You want to know who Booth is in love with. The truth is that you know who he's in love with. You've known it all along."

"Since you're presenting me with Booth's scans and encouraging me to analyze them for evidence that he is...in love, then would it be correct for me to assume that you are proposing that I'm the one he's in love with?" Brennan hedged hesitantly.

"That is correct."

"But, you don't know that for sure," Brennan argued. "These scans merely confirm the activity in these specific regions of the brain are high, and that these particular areas of the brain supposedly associated with the sensations that someone would feel when they are in love. These scans don't indicate who these so called feelings of love are directed towards with any specificity. It would be impossible to tell for certain who Booth is in love with."

"That is true," replied Wyatt with a gentle smile, hearing the slightest hint of uncertainty and insecurity in her voice. "However, I can provide you with correlating anecdotal evidence if you like."

"What kind of anecdotal evidence are you talking about?" asked Brennan skeptically.

"I was there the day they took the scans." he revealed.

"You were?" Brennan said, sounding caught off guard by his admission.

"It was a week before he was due to be released when I was able to find time to visit him," said Wyatt, casually giving the pasta sauce a quick stir. "I was preparing for my first culinary school examinations and - well, suffice it to say that my schedule was rather hectic. Anyhow, I was chatting with Booth when orderlies came in to take him for his MRI. He was understandably anxious about the test, and what it might reveal. Knowing that for the test he had to remain as still as possible while the data was being collected, I advised him to think of a happy place, or a happy time in his life. He seemed to be in relatively good spirits when he returned, so I inquired out of curiosity what he thought of when he was having his MRI. He admitted to reminiscing about the Christmas that you had with your father and brother at the prison. He said you weren't able to have a tree inside the prison, so he brought one for you. He and his son Parker set it up outside where you and your family could see it. He said it was one of his favorite memories. His smile was rather wistful when he said you told him how much you enjoyed your present."

"I loved it," she quietly confessed. "That's what he thought of during the scan?"

"And not just during the scan," Wyatt smiled. "I stayed with him for about another hour after that, and most of our conversation centered on you. He talked about your trip to Guatemala and how he was still amazed that you're willing to continue working with him despite how in demand your expertise is. He may not have verbalized it, but it was obvious that he missed you a great deal."

"Going on digs is part of what I do Gordon," replied Brennan stiffly. "As a forensic anthropologist I travel to historic burial sites, uncover the remains of ancient peoples and through their bones I help to uncover the secrets of primitive societies. That is the reason I became a forensic anthropologist. What Booth and I do is important, but going out in the field-"

"I understand," he said sympathetically, reading between the lines of what she was saying. "You wouldn't have left if you thought he still needed you with him."

"His doctor assured me that he was going to make a full recovery," she said with a slight hitch in her voice. "He said Booth was going to be okay. But Booth still seems to be struggling. It almost seems as though he's forgotten how to be Booth. Is he going to be okay Gordon?"

"With you on his side, how can he not be?" Wyatt reassured her.

"But I've been by his side this whole time-with the exception of the three weeks in Guatemala," she said through gritted teeth. "We've been working together for weeks now, and I don't see how my presence has made a notable difference to his recovery."

"You underestimate your importance to Booth."

"You say that, but if Booth was in love with me, why wouldn't he tell me?" argued weakly. "We're partners, we don't keep secrets from each other."

"Has he read your story?" asked Wyatt pointedly.

"I read it to him while he was in a coma." Bristled Brennan.

"It's one thing to assimilate into your dream pieces of a story that was read to you while you were unconscious, and it's another thing to read the entire story while you are lucid and aware," Wyatt noted. "And how, my dear, do you expect him to admit his love for you when you so openly look down upon the mere notion of love? Rather than telling you and facing certain rejection, he demonstrates his depth of feeling for you with his actions, awaiting the moment that you would show him some sort of sign that you were ready to open up to him."

"What if I'm not ready? What if I'm not ever going to be ready?" she argued. "I don't have an open heart like Booth does. I don't know how to be in a successful relationship."

"Temperance, no one ever really knows how to be in a successful relationship," he smiled patiently. "After all, what may work for one couple won't necessarily work for another, every couple is different. All we can do is try our best to make it work. And if you found someone that you truly want to be with, you keep trying. Nothing is ever perfect, and even if two people are meant to be together, it doesn't mean that the relationship is going to be easy. It simply means that those two people have found that elusive something that makes them willing to do whatever it takes to stay together and make each other happy."

Brennan took a moment to consider Wyatt's words before speaking again. When she did, she looked at him with the saddest expression in her eyes.

"At the diner, you said that if I trusted Booth with my life, I should trust him with my heart," she began, swallowing hard to fight back the tears brimming in her eyes. "I don't know how to do that, or if that's even possible for me to do. I don't believe in the same things that Booth does. Booth believes in the transcendental nature of love, and that for every person there is someone that they're meant to spend the rest of their lives with. He believes in marriage and happily ever after. I don't. What if I can't be what he wants or needs me to be? What if I hurt him?"

"You already are everything that Booth wants or needs," Wyatt pointed out, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Booth is an accomplished, confident, not altogether unattractive masculine alpha ale. He could have his pick of women, and he would rather wait for you. How much longer do you intend to make him wait?"

"There are far too many repercussions to risk entering into a romantic relationship with Booth." she whispered.

"And what of the consequences of _not_ giving this thing between you and Booth a chance?" Wyatt countered, giving her a moment to consider the ramifications of what he just said.

"I meant what I said when I told you that there's nothing I wouldn't do to help Booth," said Brennan earnestly. "Do you honestly think that admitting my feelings to him would help?"

"I wouldn't have suggested such a thing if I didn't." replied Wyatt.

Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell.

"Ah, Booth has arrived," declared Wyatt, rubbing his hands in anticipation as he headed for the door. "Just in time actually. The pasta sauce is done, as is the ziti."

"Booth is here? He's one of the other guests?" asked Brennan, grabbing Wyatt's arm and preventing him from reaching the door.

"He is the only other guest," Wyatt corrected, gently removing her hand from his arm. "There are no other guests."

"You wanted me to tell Booth about the feelings I have for him, is that the reason why you invited us both here to dinner tonight?" demanded Brennan, stepping in front of him. "You wanted to force me to disclose my feelings for Booth?"

"Temperance, honestly I'd never force you to disclose your feelings to Booth," reassured Wyatt. "I may...encourage you to confront your fears and true feelings, and perhaps advocate a course of action that would help to resolve the situation which you sought my advice for, but I cannot and would not force you to take that particular action. It's up to you to take my advice, for you to consider the consequences of not doing so. The reason why I invited you and Booth to dinner is because you've both been quite anxious concerning Booth's well being lately, and I thought it would be nice for us to have a relaxing meal together. I admit that the idea of showing off my culinary skills to good friends of mine an added incentive."

She seemed to take him at his word, and Wyatt smiled and said, "May I answer my door now?"

Brennan grinned and stepped aside, heading back to the dining room while Wyatt answered the door.

"Hey Gordon, for a second there I thought that you forgot about dinner," Booth joked as he was allowed entrance. "Speaking of which, what's on the menu tonight? Whatever it is, it smells amazing."

"I have made caponata with fennel, olive, and asiago for appetizers, a lovely Ciambotta-which is an italian vegetable stew, and a ziti con funghi selvaggi. For desert, I've made a beautiful hazelnut torte that I'm anxious for the both of you to try it."

"The both of us?" asked Booth, following Wyatt to the dining room. "Who else is here?"

"Hi Booth." greeted Brennan, already seated at the table.

"Bones, what are you doing here?" sputtered Booth, surprised that she was one of the guests.

"Gordon invited me." she answered.

"Help yourselves to the caponata," offered Wyatt, heading back into the kitchen. "I'm just going to go get the other dishes."

Wyatt was in his kitchen, putting the final touches on his entrees when Booth seemed to suddenly appear.

"Need help with those?" Booth asked solicitously, though there was a hint of steeliness in his eyes.

"Here, you can take the Ciambotta," said Wyatt good naturedly, handing Booth the tureen. "I'll take the Ziti, and we'll discuss solutions to your problem after dinner."

They headed back to the table where Brennan awaited them. Wyatt ensured that the conversation between them flowed, inquiring about the other members of the team, asking about recent cases and regaling them with stories about his culinary school instructors and fellow students.

Once their meal was done, Wyatt stood up and excused himself to retrieve their desert, and Booth volunteered to help.

"I'll help," offered Brennan, getting up from her seat. "Booth helped with the entrees, it's only fair that I help with desert.

"That's alright Temperance, why don't you get the desert plates in the hutch while Booth and I get the desert and coffee." Suggested Wyatt.

Once they were in the kitchen, Booth found himself blurting what had been on his mind.

"So what do I do about tomorrow Gordon?" asked Booth nervously. "I still need to figure out how to pass my marksmanship test while my shooting is still off. Got any suggestions, cause I could really use the help."

"Why don't you ask Dr. Brennan to go with you?" proposed Wyatt.

"You want me to take Bones?" Book asked incredulously. "I hate to say it but you've lost your touch Gordon. I mean, what good would it do to have her watch me blow my test? And why would she even agree to go with me for that matter?"

"Firstly, you wouldn't allow yourself to fail in front of her," Wyatt pointed out. "Passing your marksmanship test in front of her would be more than just a point of pride, you'd be confirming to yourself and to her once again the fact that she is safe with you. That despite the continuing struggle you face in certain areas of your life, you are still able to protect her and be her partner. Secondly, don't underestimate your importance to her. If you need her, trust that she will be there for you."

Wyatt's advice and his reasoning behind it seemed to relax Booth, and for the first time since Booth had told Wyatt about his marksmanship test he seemed to be at ease.

"Hey Gordon, could you give me a sec to talk to Bones?" asked Booth, holding the torte in his hands.

"Hmm...for some reason I can't seem to find the saucers that go with my teacups," winked Wyatt. "You should go ahead, I won't be a moment."

"Thanks Gordon, for everything." said Booth sincerely before leaving the kitchen.

Wyatt tapped his fingers against his counter a few times before opening up the cupboard that housed the saucers he was supposed to have waylaid. He placed them on a tray along with a carafe of coffee, the teacups, and his matching sugar and cream dispensers. He picked up the tray and stood by the door, listening carefully not wanting to interrupt an important moment. He did feel slightly guilty for eavesdropping, but what he heard made him smile.

"...of course I'll come with you Booth," Brennan agreed. "Just let me know where and when."

"The test is tomorrow after work," said Booth, breathing a sigh of relief. "I'll pick you up at the lab and we can go together."

"Okay," Brennan replied. "and depending on whether or not you pass your test, perhaps we can go for a drink at the Founding Fathers afterward."

"Sounds like a plan," chuckled Booth. "And don't worry, I'm going to pass that test with a lot of color."

"You sound very sure of yourself." replied Brennan with a laugh.

"With you cheering me on, how can I not do well?" Booth said charmingly.

"That is true, I'm very supportive." declared Brennan.

"That you are Bones, that you are." Booth agreed.

Wyatt gave them a couple of more minute to stay in their privacy bubble before reentering the dining room.

"Who would like some coffee?" asked Wyatt innocently, placing the tray on the dining table.


End file.
